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I could feel the hands of numerous people all over my body. Not once did my fists cease making contact with the man’s face, but I could still feel all of them touching me, scratching, strangling me.
Black dots appeared in my vision, but it could’ve been blood that managed to get into my eyes. I struggled to breathe, to see, to think rationally.
She died because of you.
I vividly remembered every person whose life I’d taken. Each one became one of the demons, terrorizing me in my sleep. In daytime, their voices were loud in my mind, telling me just how much of a terrible person I was.
None of their opinions mattered. Not once did I regret taking a life. Hence, with treatment, I was able to put them to sleep. Now, I distinguished between the two voices that mocked me. They laughed sinisterly, brutally.
I couldn’t swallow the spit in my mouth, and the dirt-like taste made my throat close up.
Soon enough, nothing but blood was visible on the assassin’s face. Some of his teeth were knocked out, his mouth filled with blood. His eyes were closed, and he was barely breathing. All his screams and pleas ended a while ago, yet it didn’t stop me from terrorizing him.
All he was able to do was grunt in pain, and even that had stopped a while ago. I was uncertain whether or not he was still breathing, but it didn’t stop me.
My legs gave in until I was completely sitting on top of him, yet I didn’t lose the strength in my fists. Blood continued to splatter all around, his body completely limp, unmoving, dead.
Muddy hands tried pulling me backwards yet again into the abyss. The more I struggled against them, the harsher they were. Their bizarre laughter, that mockery, made me lose my grip on reality.
How does it feel knowing that it’s you who killed her? Didn’t you swear to protect her? How pathetic.
“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled out.
More manic laughter.
My eyes closed.
And then, once I opened them, I saw nothing but blackness all around me.
Slowly, corpses—skeletons—began rising from the mud beneath my feet. Some of them were covered in rotten flesh, whilst the others were nothing but bones. Hands gripped my legs, dragging me down. I couldn’t shake them off no matter how much I tried.
All around me were faces. Some familiar, some so mutilated that they seemed unknown.
You killed her, just like you killed all of us.
Their voices were too loud—too powerful. I couldn’t turn them off, nor ignore the way they crept up behind me, dirtying me with their blood. It was as if ghosts of my past, and the past of my ancestors, had come back to haunt me, as if they’d been waiting for this moment, a moment of weakness.
“I didn’t kill her.”
Then, all I heard were piercing screams filled with hatred, fury, and immense pain. Each scream roared. It was loud enough to burst my eardrums, loud enough to have me drop to my knees, eyes shut tight whilst my hands covered my ears, but it wasn’t helpful.
No matter how much I denied it, all of the voices were right. I brought these men here, thinking it would bring her joy to end their lives. Yet, I hadn’t anticipated that it could end fatally for her.
Even after killing my mother, all I wanted was to chain her to a wall, keep her for the rest of eternity. To tame the untamable, to take away all of her power that she had, until she was broken and mine completely.
She’d been surprised to see me and to see how calm I was. There were a lot of ways I wanted tonight to end, and this wasn’t one of them. Instead of taking her with me tonight and never letting her go again, I was never going to hold her again.
It was my fault.
In this dark, cold world, Ekaterina, despite being a synonym for wickedness, was the only ray of sunshine. She didn’t smile often yet when she did, everything in me wanted to claim her, to show to the world who she belonged to.
It was my fault.
No one had ever had such an impact on my life—on me. Her play on words, that cat and mouse game that she adored deeply—all of it pulled me in. If she wanted, I would’ve chased her to the ends of the world.
It was my fault.
Even before we met, she was broken. The immense desire to break her to the point of death was what sparked to life inside of me the first time I saw her. To have her bend to my will, not to remember the shit her pathetic father did to her. To fill her broken memory with me, and me only.
